Control
by Josef Von Perriwinkle
Summary: Blake/Jayden. “You don’t question my methods.” Non-con, SPOILERS.


**Title: **Control  
**Summary: **"You don't question my methods."  
**Pairing: **Blake/Jayden  
**Warnings: **Slash, porn, non-con, spoilers, cussing (but that's probably the least of your worries).  
**Disclaimer: **Sorry, Quantic Dream. Sorry, David Cage. (But not really.)  
**Note: **So there's this giant plot hole. Did Jayden ever cop (haw haw) a telling off, or worse, for letting Ethan go? If there was, I must have missed the memo. Or I just can't remember.

For Hal. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRO.

* * *

Agent Norman Jayden liked control, liked certainty. And while the nature of his work did not allow him those luxuries most of the time, he found himself more than capable of dealing with those niggling little issues.

Except Lieutenant Blake was not a niggling little issue. Lieutenant Blake was a _huge_ issue, and there was nothing Jayden could do about it. Or so one would think, but Jayden was beginning to develop a taste for taking matters into his own hands. _Like I need reminding. Helping Ethan Mars escape..._

But now that the most important thing had been taken care of, it was time for him to confront Blake. Anger pulsed inside of him as he remembered the way Blake had manhandled Ethan Mars. Then again, maybe 'manhandled' was too gentle of a word.

Feeling the ARI bump comfortably against his chest, tucked safely in his shirt pocket, he got up from his chair and went to open the door to find the lieutenant. Except Blake found him first, practically knocking the door down as he stormed into Jayden's tiny office.

"Jesus Christ, Blake! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I should be asking you the same goddamn thing, Jayden." Blake hissed, advancing on the agent. Even with a good five feet or so between them, Jayden could see a vein throbbing in the man's forehead. "Letting the Origami Killer go? What the fuck were you thinking?!"

"Origami Killer or not, you had no rightto treat him the way you did!" Jayden found himself shouting back.

"Right, right." Blake's glare turned into a derisive sneer. "So you're pissed because I smacked him around a bit, huh? Maybe you folk over at the FBI do shit differently, but over here, it's called _necessary force_."

Jayden felt something inside him snap. In a sudden, uncontrollable moment, he swung his arm out, smashing his fist into the side of the lieutenant's face. Blake stumbled backwards, knocking his head on the corkboard. Despite the severity of the situation, the corners of Jayden's mouth twitched into a smirk of mild satisfaction.

Blake staggered, rubbing the back of his head as he recovered. "Y-you think this is funny? Oh, of course you would... after all, what the hell kind of a reason do you have for letting him go, huh? You're not taking this seriously, are you?"

"Like you're one to talk! I'm beginning to think that the only reason you're even on the goddamn force is because you can beat people up without repercussions!"

"I've told you, again and again... it's necessary force." With that, Blake lunged forward, throwing a punch of his own, sending the agent sprawling face-down onto the desk.

Jayden choked a little, wiping a spot of blood away from his lower lip. Blake could punch, he'd give him that much, but it wouldn't faze him. "Don't you have any integrity? It doesn't have to be that way! It – " _Click_. He heard the sound and felt something cold around his wrists. As though the chill of the metal had wormed its way into his bloodstream, he froze. "What are you doing, Blake? Hey, what are you doing?"

The silence behind Jayden caused him to panic slightly. He struggled, trying to force his wrists apart, his chest pressing heavily against the worn wood of his desk. He couldn't see what Blake was doing or hell, _know_ what he was planningto do, but he knew that either way, it couldn't be good. If he could get himself onto his back, he could probably get out of the situation...

But Blake got there first. In a sudden act of brutality, he grabbed Jayden's hair and slammed his face down onto the desk, causing the agent to emit a pain-induced expletive. "Son of a bitch! Don't you get it? You're committing a federal offence!"

"Federal offence, my ass. But speaking of ass... you've got quite a nice one, don't you?"

"What the hell, Blake?!" Jayden shouted again, this time more panicked. "Don't fuck around! We've gotta go find Shaun Mars, pronto!"

Eerily calm, yet in a voice that was dripping with venom, Blake muttered, "I'm going to show you FBI hot-shots that you're not so high and mighty." Blake pulled Jayden's head up and punched him square in the nose, bloodying his shirt. Then, as though in anticipation of the agent's next move, he forced him to sit up and buried his fist deep into his stomach. Jayden was winded now, collapsing face-down and back onto the desk as he gasped for breath.

The room was beginning to spin again, but not so much that he couldn't recognise the feeling of a pair of misguided hands pulling his pants and briefs down.

Oh no. No no no no no _no no_ –

"No, BLAKE!"

And as he screamed Blake's name in fear and agony and horror, unbearable pain shot through him, something that felt like it was ripping him apart. And as though he couldn't be angrier, couldn't be more disgusted at that son of a bitch, he smashed his hands in vain against the ever-warming surface of the table as Blake groaned, "Hah, aren't I fucking lucky that this room is sound-proof?"

"Blake, STOP! You can't - !"

But he knew his words couldn't reach him. After all, was there ever a point in time when they had?

With every rough, unsympathetic thrust, with every droplet of blood that escaped from his lower lip as he bit down on it, trying to bear the pain, Jayden felt himself slipping further and further away from that thing he held in such high regard.

There was no more control. He couldn't even stop himself from crying out in torment as Blake used him for all of his perceived worth. And all of a sudden, as though he was abruptly submerged in the sheer harshness and logic of reality as Blake came inside of him, he knew that even after all of this was over, it would still be useless. He wouldn't be able to change a goddamn thing. How many more people would suffer at Blake's hands? Now, even he was just another number Blake could add to his tally.

It was a feeling he was not accustomed to knowing – a feeling that others had called 'despair'.

"Get it now, nancy-boy? You don't question my methods." Blake spat, and a glob of saliva landed on his cheek. Jayden didn't move, even as Blake undid the handcuffs, even as Blake fired one final, cruel barb at him: "Good fuck though. Haven't had one like that for a long time."

Then he was alone.

Agent Norman Jayden could feel the top half of his suit sticking to his skin, the throbbing pain of his damaged insides, the semen trickling down his thighs. The air was suddenly still and everything was quiet.

But despite it all, he still couldn't move.

**END**

A/N: NORMAN JAYDEN BAD END


End file.
